Lost Without His Guide
by guineamania
Summary: Enjolras is the leader Les Amis de l'ABC but Combeferre is his guide. The amis would be nowhere without him. So when Combeferre is kidnapped it is up to Enjolras to save him; it is either his passion or his best friend? But will things be able to return to normal after this all?
1. Prologue

_**16/4/13**_

**Hey I know I shouldn't be starting another fanfiction but I have an excuse! This is my grumpy fanfiction; the fan fiction I write when I am angry or sad and those emotions turn into distressing writing. So as I do not want to ruin my other fics I put them all into one. Also this won't have regular updates so sorry guys. This is when the mood strikes me.**

**Hope you enjoy this little prologue as a teaser and explanation**

**Lost Without His Guide**

**Chapter 1 - Prologue**

"The police have been making threats again," Combeferre stated as they walked together.

"Let them threaten us. They cannot do anything legally and we have two lawyers in our midst. They will not risk anything illegal," Enjolras retorted proudly.

"But the Surete will!" Combeferre protested. "They are going to be looking for you, you need to be careful," he insisted pulling back on Enjolras' shoulder. "You are the leader it is not safe for you to be displaying yourself like this," he protested. The younger blonde pulled his shoulder out of Combeferre's grasp.

"Those idiots will not ruin what we have worked so hard for," Enjolras insisted.

"Don't risk your own life. Take it slow!" Combeferre shouted back at him as they walked.

"I will not take it slow Combeferre!" he retorted curtly. Combeferre sighed in desperation at Enjolras' actions. They walked in silence with Combeferre his usual stride behind Enjolras. This was how they had always walked. Suddenly a hand clasped Combeferre across the mouth and another round the waist. Combeferre shouted and struggled with all his might but the hands were too strong as they dragged him backwards into the shadows of an alley. He kicked his assailant and took pride and making him grimace in pain. The man held a cloth tightly over his mouth and nose and despite Combeferre's valiant struggles, he felt himself succumb to unconsciousness. He fell limp in his captor's arms.

"The people need saving now Ferre!" Enjolras insisted frowning when he was met only with silence. He turned around and Combeferre was nowhere to be seen. "Ferre … Lucien!" he shouted. "I know you are angry with me but this isn't funny!" he shouted spinning around and striding back to the place where Combeferre had last talked to him. A note was fluttering in the wind pinned with a knife to the wall. Beads of blood ran off the knife running down the piece of paper that was addressed to _Ricard Enjolras_. Enjolras pulled the knife out and opened the note hesitantly. It read: _Dear Mr Enjolras. You have caused us great deals of trouble. Now it is my turn to play with you! I have your friend Monsieur Combeferre and it is his blood that is on this message. Every two hours the revolution is still running, another injury will appear on your little friend. The first will be at three. We will find you when all is finished. If you try and tell anyone of our deal or show anyone this message then you will not see him again … alive! Have fun! _Enjolras choked in horror. They couldn't do this to Combeferre. They just couldn't. Enjolras didn't know what to do; he couldn't stop the revolution but yet he couldn't let Combeferre get hurt because of his stubborn actions. His heart made the decision for him. He ran towards the Musian; time to stop a revolution of his own making.


	2. Chapter 1

_**19/4/13**_

**So I hope that prologue was enough to perk your interests because here is part two!**

**The song sung in his chapter is a famous French revolutionary song called Ah ca ira (It'll be okay)**

**Enjoy! Things start to get a bit messier now**

**Thanks for my one reviewer! Review if you want this to continue guys … if no one likes I will stop**

EmmaLaird – Thanks so much! I really hope you like this chapter

**Chapter 1**

Day 1: 2:50pm

Enjolras looked at his pocket watch as he ran. It was just coming up to three o'clock where the first injury would be occurring. He suddenly felt bile rise in his throat at the thought of Combeferre being hurt because of his rash actions. He threw up at the side of the road due to the horror. Eventually, Enjolras arrived at the Musian panting practically falling in the door. "Jolras? Are you alight?" Joly asked from his seat by the door.

"Everyone!" he shouted and the café fell eerily silent waiting for some inspirational speech from their passionate leader. "Go home! There will be no more meetings here!" he shouted and the silence thickened even more. Everyone was sat there gawping at him in utter disbelief.

"Enj are you ill or something?" Courfeyrac asked stepping towards him.

"I am fine! Go home!" he ordered and slowly his followers trickled out of the Musian into the humid heat until only the core amis remained behind. "You guys as well. The revolution is over," he ordered, still reeling in shock.

"Julien you are not thinking straight," Courfeyrac insisted taking hold of Enjolras' arm. Enjolras viciously pulled it out of Courfeyrac's grip.

"No I am thinking straighter than I ever have been. Grantaire is right this is a waste of time. I'm just going to get you all killed or hurt!" he exclaimed.

"Where's Combeferre when you need him," Marius murmured standing up. A sob stopped in Enjolras' throat at the mention of Combeferre's name.

"Enj, you look sick," Jehan mumbled almost pleading with Enjolras through a single look. Enjolras feel his heart break in two but he had to do this for Combeferre.

"I am not sick, or tired, or insane. The revolution is not worth it!" he screamed and was thrown backwards as Bahorel smacked him round the jaw. His head thumped against the floor and the world went black.

Day 1: 5pm

Blood trickled down the side of his face from a battered temple. Combeferre blinked awake slowly as footsteps echoed towards him. He was sat on a solid oak chair in the centre of a bare room. Whenever he tried to move and inch, all four limbs were secured firmly in place. Handcuffs restrained his arms behind his back and thick rope made sure the revolutionary couldn't move his feet. There were only two things of note in the room; a small window that was securely bared from the outside and a massive clock that was directly in his eye line. His situation had been explained in great length and he hoped with all his heart Enjolras would not succumb to the threats. The revolution was more than just one man. The footsteps grew louder as his captor grew closer. It was five; time for take two. The door clicked open and the captain strolled in as it was locked behind him. "Did you have a nice rest kiddo?" he chuckled and Combeferre responded with an expressionless stare. He would not let this man win. "Ah ca ira, ca ira, ca ira," he mumbled through the pain.

"What was that?" the captain asked patronisingly.

"Les aristocrates a la lanterne!" he whispered with a smile. The captain glared daggers and slapped Combeferre across the face.

"Stupid revolutionary boys!" he snarled but regained composure. "Just thought you would like to know, little Enjolras is doing exactly like I instructed him to but not quick enough for your sake," he chuckled drawing out the knife he had been threatening Combeferre with last 'session'. Combeferre kept his breathing level and steady even in front of the knife and sadistic cop. "One cut per two hours," he smiled and ran the knife agonisingly slowly, about half an inch deep, down the side of Combeferre's neck. Combeferre bit back the cry of pain but his head began to grow heavy and his thoughts woozy as the hot liquid ran down his chest. The last thing he heard was the footsteps and laugh of the captain.

Day 1: 6pm

"Jolras … Enjy!" a voice called to him through the fog.

"I'm sorry alright! I didn't mean to knock him out, just knock some sense into him," another voice shouted but everything was muffled by the pressing fog.

"Wake up Enjy," the voice called but everything was getting clearer for him. Unfortunately, as things became clearer, so did the skull raking pain. Enjolras groaned slowly lifting his head.

"What happened?" he groaned, holding his pounding head in his trembling hands; he could only remember come to the Musain to stop the revolution then all was blank.

"You came in spouting nonsense and Bahorel punched you to knock some sense into you. You've been out cold for three hours," Joly explained from his place knelt in front of Enjolras. Enjolras jumped to his feet in horror.

"Three hours!" he exclaimed in a panicked frenzy. He had wasted three hours; Combeferre had been hurt again in that time. He had to get to work, this could wait no longer; he had to save his best friend. Actually Combeferre was more than his best friend; Combeferre was his big brother, his guide.

"Enj sit down we think you are ill," Joly said softly.

"I am not ill! I am fine but the revolution needs to end!" he shouted while tearing posters off the walls. Combeferre had already been in the hands of that maniac for over three hours. Three hours too long.

"Julien Enjolras sit down now!" Courfeyrac ordered pushing him onto the seat. Enjolras desperately struggled against him but the other man was too strong.

"It needs to stop!" Enjolras shouted at them, his eyes were a maelstrom of frenzied emotions. He wanted to pour out everything to his closest friends but the words kept on swirling round his head; _If you try and tell anyone of our deal or show anyone this message then you will not see him again … alive!. _Courfeyrac produced some hand cuffs from his pocket; Enjolras gawped, surely they wouldn't. Courfeyrac wouldn't dare try and handcuff him. He did dare; he cuffed Enjolras to a pipe at the side of the room. Who knows why Courfeyrac had handcuffs but no one was asking any questions.

"Explain Enjolras!" Courfeyrac insisted and they all watched him expectantly.

"I can't!" he shouted in despair while struggling against the cuff.

Day 1: 11pm

The chimes from the overly sized clock woke Combeferre from his pain induced sleep. Eleven o'clock, strike four; it was starting to take its toll on his strength. These people knew what they were doing. They knew exactly where to cut to make it hurt the most but not kill him. Combeferre's body was coated in a dry layer of blood and the three cuts already made stood out a brilliant crimson against his pale skin. Every breath was an effort but he knew there was more to come. Combeferre's eyes drifted slowly shut but he would not be able to remain that way for long. A frozen bucket of water was splashed over his entire body causing a gasp of shock to slide past his usually stoic facade. "Wakey, wakey," he chuckled and Combeferre panted shivering from the cold. At least some of the blood washed off down a drain in the corner of the cell. "Eleven now. Your friends are a lot more stubborn than I expected. Oh well at least I get to play with you more now," he grinned and Combeferre tried to remain emotionless. !"

"Ah ca ira, ca ira, ca ira. Les aristocrates on les pendra!" Combeferre chuckled to irritate the guard further. He pulled out the same knife as the two times previously. The knife tore through his shirt and it was discarded on the floor. The captain flipped his knife casually and held it to Combeferre's cheek. "Nah, I don't want to hurt that pretty young face of yours," he chuckled and instead ran the knife slowly the side of his stomach. It didn't touch any major organs but still sent shooting pain up his chest every time he tried to breathe. "Night, night sweetheart. See you at one," he smiled and the door thumped shut behind him. Blood dripped from his wound and Combeferre shivered as he fell asleep.

Day 2: 8am

"Monsieur Combeferre," a voice called out to him through his uneasy sleep. The voice was certainly not what he expected; to being with, it was a she. Combeferre pushed his exhausted eyes open. In front of him stood a relatively short and thin girl, probably about his age. She was nothing spectacular or noticeable but she brought a slightly relief in this time of pain. She smiled slightly at him and brought a chair over to sit in front of him. "I am here to give you your meal and clean some of this horrible blood away," she explained and Combeferre nodded weakly; he was trying with all his might to keep his head and body straight despite the pain inflicted upon him.

She picked up the tray and Combeferre's stomach replied with a growl. He hadn't eaten in a day and the blood loss hadn't helped at all with his increasing hunger. Slowly and methodically, the girl managed to feed him half a bowl of broth and a slice of bread before he felt incredibly sick. "I'm going to put something on your cuts that will sting to begin with but will help with the pain," she explained and Combeferre nodded weakly again. She brought comfort in this room; it felt good to have someone who actually cared about him in this dreaded place. Her hands trembled slightly as she dabbed the liquid on Combeferre's cuts; Combeferre smiled the best he could and it succeeded in reassuring her. She was right, it did sting when she applied the medicine but slowly it soothed the pain that had been plaguing him. "Thank you," he muttered closing his eyes again.

"You're welcome monsieur," she smiled softly. "I am not supposed to be doing this but … your friends they aren't giving up on the revolution," she whispered and Combeferre nodded.

"Vive la France," he whispered.

Day 2: 1pm  
They clicked and Enjolras cheered. He had been working on the handcuffs ever since he woke up from the drug induced sleep the others had put him in. Finally they clicked open and Enjolras jumped to his feet. All the rest of the amis were out rallying and making apologies for Enjolras' behaviour. They had to be stopped. He only knew of one person that could help him stop this revolution. The famous cynic; the winecask they always rejected. Grantaire. If anyone would help him stop a revolution, it was the man who hated the revolution. He ran out into the afternoon heat and ran on autopilot to Grantaire's small flat. As he ran, he found himself automatically clutching the blood-stained note in his trembling hands. He knew the way to Grantaire's apartment off by heart and ran as fast as his legs could carry him. The drunkard had to help him; he just had to. He was the only one that would even consider it. He was terrified for Combeferre. His best friend had been in the hands of that maniac for almost a day now and had been hurt every two hours. He must feel so deserted now; _I'm trying Lucien, I really am!_

Enjolras usually tried to avoid Grantaire's apartment building at all costs; it was a hive for crocks, rapists, whores and other unsavoury individuals. Enjolras hurried through to Grantaire's dingy little apartment and thumped as hard as he could on the door. He breathing was incredibly ragged and he leant against the wall trying to catch his breath.

"Looking for some fun sweetie," a whore chuckled from the shadows cast by a door frame.

"N-no … I'm looking for Grantaire," he stated while trying to hide his nerves created by being in a place such as this.

"What would a pretty thing like you want with the winerat … he ain't even working tonight?" the whore asked stepping closer to Enjolras. He breathed deeply trying to ignore the comments she made about Grantaire's profession. The whore stepped closer running her finger round Enjolras' collar and widening it slightly. "I can think of my more fun people you could associate yourself with than him," she giggled as Enjolras tried to step away. For every step he took away, she stepped closer. The whore ran her tongue across her teeth and reached to grab him round the waist.

"Adele back off!" Grantaire shouted from the now open door.

"Come on Taire you always get the good toys," she pouted dramatically.

"Get lost Adele!" he insisted and she backed off enough for Enjolras to dart behind Grantaire. "If anyone comes asking for me, leave them the fuck alone of I will beat your face in!" he shouted.

"Love you too Taire," she giggled and he just rolled his eyes, slamming the door.

"What do you want Enjolras?" he asked grumpily, picking up the nearest bottle to the door.

"I need your help," Enjolras admitted and the bottle Grantaire was holding nearly hit the floor.

"You, the mighty god Apollo, want my, the worthless drunkard's, help? Maybe the others are right, maybe you are ill," he gawped.

"Don't rub it in R!" He exclaimed, still clutching the tattered note in his trembling hands.

"I hear you have been swayed to the dark side," Grantaire stated plainly, avoiding Enjolras' eyes, and Enjolras nodded.

"I need the revolution over … as quickly as possible," he sighed while trying not to wince at his words.

"What is wrong Apollo?" Grantaire asked finally looking up at him. Enjolras looked nothing like the marble statue he usually was. Dark shadows lined his eyes and they were slightly bloodshot. His skin took on pastiness that was at least two shades lighter than its usual hue.

"Nothing is wrong I have just come to my senses!" he snapped back at Grantaire. The trembling was what worried him the most; Enjolras' hands were shaking noticeably and he could not stand still at all.

"Correct me if I am wrong but I believe it will have something to do with this," Grantaire replied, suddenly pulling the note out of Enjolras' fidgeting fingers. Enjolras dived forwards frantically, needing to get the note back from Grantaire; if he read it then Combeferre was dead.


	3. Chapter 2

_**7/5/13**_

**Thanks to my three reviewers this time! I hate to be a review whore but please, please, please review to let me know if this is worth my time or not!**

EmmaLaird – thanks for your help in pointing that out. Any advice or pointing out mistakes I have made is welcome!

dance-sing-live – thanks for your review and I hope you like this!

Juliet116 – You find out later in this chapter but there is someone watching Enjolras

**Sorry for the long wait guys … I have been too happy to write this and too busy to write at all! This is only going to be a short fic but chapter quantity is undecided yet.**

**Chapter 2**

Day 2 - 1:30pm

"Why don't you want me to read this?" Grantaire asked holding it away from Enjolras.

"I can't tell you, just give it back winerack!" he shouted, a hint of desperation resonated in his voice that made Grantaire falter slightly. He had never heard his Apollo plead before but he needed to know what was making the might Enjolras twitchy like this. Grantaire opened the note and cast his eyes down. Enjolras choked on a sob and feel to the floor. Grantaire read it and his heart sunk. Guilt filled his entire being and he threw the note on the floor in a fit of rage.

"I, I," Grantaire stuttered; for once he was at a loss for words. He had killed Combeferre. He had killed the best man to walk this earth; Combeferre was generosity and love personified. And Grantaire had killed him. Enjolras was trying to hold back the tears but Grantaire could do nothing to sooth his cracked marble statue. A piece of paper fluttered through a gap in Grantaire's door and the flash of white caught his eye. Cautiously he edged towards the door with a knife in hand. After all this had happened he was not letting them be caught unprepared again. The paper was the same as the first note and also had dried beads of blood stained into it. He slowly opened it and read the fluid elegant writing. _Dear Monsieurs, In my previous letter I wrote that if anyone found out then I would kill Monsieur Combeferre. After a lot of thought I have changed my mind as he is too much fun to play with. Every time either of you tell anyone, I will pierce an organ … this time it is the liver. Bonne Chance_

Grantaire sighed partially in relief and the rest being shock at the audacity of their opponent. Because that is all it is to that man; a game. A game of life and death but a game all the same. Then Grantaire and Enjolras would have to beat him at his own game. Enjolras was still sat with his head in his hands in the settee. He looked like he was about to cry but the shock had won over in his mind. "Enj, it's alright Ferre is alive," Grantaire told him and Enjolras' head shot up. Grantaire passed him the note and Enjolras' eyes darted from side to side reading it as fast as his frantic mind could comprehend. Enjolras let out a pent up breath he hadn't even realised he was holding in. "We need to stop him," Grantaire stated and Enjolras nodded, still not uttering a word. "You carry on as you are but with less vigor now," Grantaire instructed, needing to take charge of this dire situation. He would usually stay away; but this was the only person who seemed to care about him. This was war. And Grantaire was not going to let the scum win.

Day 3 – 5pm

"I know the mole!" Grantaire whispered walking into Enjolras' apartment.

"Who!" Enjolras exclaimed eagerly.

"Be quiet!" Grantaire whispered pushing him away from the window. "If there is a mole then that means he knows where you live and what we are doing so be quiet," he insisted. "Outside your apartment there is a man, he is an undercover Surete agent," Grantaire explained and Enjolras nodded.

"What now?" Enjolras whispered as Grantaire began pacing.

"I follow him, you stay on target and try to secretly arm yourself," Grantaire stated, pointing at him. "Do not say anything or act any differently!" he ordered and Enjolras nodded. Grantaire turned and prowled out of the door towards their mystery mole.

Day 4: 9pm  
"Evening Lucien," the captain chuckled striding into Combeferre's cell. Combeferre could not even find the energy to lift his heavy head to look at his torturer. Pain shone through his usually guarded eyes and he wore of look of defeat. The singing had stopped, the retorts had run out. Combeferre had given up. He had to give it to him though. He was most certainly persistent; not once had he not arrived to deliver the pain personally. "This time it is going to be slightly different," he smiled as two of his henchmen walked towards Combeferre. He flinched away from their touch but he could do nothing as one held him tightly as the other untied him with unneeded brutality. It wasn't as if he was going to run. To run would mean he would have to have some strength and he would need to be able to move his legs. Neither of those were possible at the moment. "My boys here are doing all this for free and they are not very happy about the entertainment you are providing," he sighed and the men chuckled evilly. Each man took one of Combeferre's arms and slung them over their shoulders to carry him with his feet dragging on the cold stone floor.

He was carried out of the cell he had lived in for the past five days and into one further down the corridor. He wrenched his head up despite the protests of his exhausted neck muscles. This one was more of a permanent living cell. It had a chair in the middle like his other room did; and the same massive clock. But the main difference was a bed in the corner. It was surprisingly plush for a cell but Combeferre wasn't complaining; it was nowhere near as good as his bed at home but it actually had a decent mattress. That bed was where Combeferre was laid by the two henchmen that carried him in. It was a beautiful respite from the chair he used to sit on. "So I promised them that they could each have a day doing whatever they wished with you," the captain shrugged leaning on the door frame. Combeferre's heart dropped and he found himself shaking again. He knew what this meant. "That was as long as it didn't kill you and every two hours they inflict the cut," he mumbled with an evil grin at the trembling boy. One of the men left the room with the devilish captain but one remained.

"We're going to have so much fun pretty boy," the man whispered in Combeferre's ear and Combeferre cringed at his voice. Combeferre's arms were tied with one to each bed post so he was completely exposed to this man. He tried weakly to test the restraints. This man clearly knew what he was doing; they were tied so no matter how much Combeferre struggled nothing would come lose. The thug straddled Combeferre agonisingly slowly. Combeferre tried to look away but his head would not move. He couldn't look away from the common street thug sat on top of him. "You are the best toy chief has ever given us," the man chuckled and Combeferre's breathing picked up in fear. He tried to struggle but nothing happened. "Ouu a feisty one as well. Oui the best," he smiled and forced himself on Combeferre's lips. Combeferre tried to pull away and scream but the man was too strong for him to fight in his weakened state. The man's tongue prised his lips open and explored his mouth. Combeferre cried out against his lips but no sound escaped.

The man broke off the kiss and stroked down his cheek. "You are beautiful," he whispered with a manic grin. Combeferre was too scared to speak and didn't trust his voice not to betray him. "It is almost a shame to have to cut this body of yours, but it is part of our agreement," he shrugged pulling out a knife and stroking the flat side down Combeferre's face. "So it has to be done," the man whispered and stuck the knife into Combeferre's shoulder. He cried out in pain and was silenced by the man's lips on his again. He was terrified. Combeferre always hated to admit when he was scared. But he was terrified laid bound under a evil thug. The man pulled out the knife from Combeferre's shoulder and threw it on the floor.

"Pl-please stop," Combeferre stammered but the man just laughed.  
"And why would I do that?" He asked running his hands down Combeferre's sides.  
"P-ple-ase," he cried out at the touch.  
"Stop talking!" The man ordered but Combeferre's fear overwhelmed everything.  
"P-please," he begged. The man practically snarled, rummaging in this coat pockets. He found a piece of cloth in one of them. He rolled it up in his hands and pulled his belt off. Combeferre whimpered at the gesture but the man ignored him. "I thought I told you to stop talking," he growled. Combeferre opened his mouth again to protest but was silenced by the ball of cloth being pressed into his mouth. He gagged against the fabric trying to spit it out but his tormentor was too quick. He secured the belt round Combeferre's head and held the ball in place; gagging him completely. He tried to cry out but only a muffled sob escaped from the makeshift gag. He was now entirely helps at the whims of this horrible surete thug.

The man smiled at his handiwork from where he was sat on Combeferre's trembling chest. "Don't be scared little one," he chuckled which caused Combeferre to try to get away from him all the more. "I'll be very gentle," he promised but Combeferre's breathing grew even quicker in terror. The man smiled at his handiwork from where he was sat on Combeferre's trembling chest. "Don't be scared little one," he chuckled which caused Combeferre to try to get away from him all the more. "I'll be very gentle," he promised but Combeferre's breathing grew even quicker in terror. He tried pulling against the bonds again but this only earned him another chuckle from the thug. He ran his hands down Combeferre's chest causing shivers to run up his spine. The man quickly undid Combeferre's trousers and slid them down his legs. He reached mid-thigh but Combeferre halted his progress by kicking and squirming as much as he could to throw the man off. His valiant struggles were halted by the man's hands on his ankles. "Don't struggle, it will just make it worse for you," he hissed but Combeferre refused to give up struggling. It was his last hope; Combeferre refused to go down without a fight. The thug slapped him across the face, extracting a gasp of pain from the medical student. He pulled out two more pieces of rope from by the bed and hurriedly secured Combeferre's feet to the end of the bed so he was splayed open; completely exposed.

His trousers had been thrown off in the struggles and lay discarded on the floor next to the bed. Combeferre lay there trembling refusing to look up at his abuser, clothed only in his underwear. They didn't remain on for long as the brute tore them with the knife and they were added to the pile on the floor. He felt so venerable and scared to be at the every whim of a common street thug. Tears welled up in his eyes as the villain grabbed onto his hips. "Don't cry pretty boy," he whispered while moving his hands up and tangling them in Combeferre's hair. Combeferre tried to move away but the thug's hands were too strong and the brute wrenched his head around so Combeferre couldn't look anywhere but his eyes as he pulled him in for another brutal kiss. The tears streamed out if Combeferre's eyes as he squeezed them shut to try and escape this torment; this time is hurt. The kisses hurt through the gag that secured his mouth. While they were kissing, the thug's hands moved down from Combeferre's hair and latched firmly onto his hips again. "I am going to enjoy this," he chuckled as he pulled his own trousers and underwear off. Combeferre squeezed his eyes shut tighter.


	4. Chapter 3

_**22/5/13**_

**Thanks for the support and reviews, sorry for the long wait everyone but Without My Apollo's Love has been my main focus for the past week or so**

dance-sing-live – I know :( poor baby

TotaltotheMax – haha, I'm ill and have exams … that's why you are getting a chapter!

**Chapter 3**

Day 5: 10am  
Combeferre lay awake trembling on the bed. He felt horribly dirty and violated but could do nothing about it. The thug had left him with his hands bound in front of him with the thick rope used the night before. To begin with his feet had been free but as the bastard tried to impose himself on Combeferre more, Combeferre started kicking back and soon his legs were bound as well. The one thing that had remained all night long was the gag. It bit into the corners of Combeferre's mouth and he could not shut his mouth properly without it digging in any further. Tears continued to stream down his face. Every time he shut up his eyes the visions of the night before remained. Shame bit at his heart; he responded. That was the worst part of it all; his body had responded to the actions of the abusing brute. He cried harder into the sheets that were stained with his own blood.

New cuts lined his skin at various points scattered across his body. The worst being an ugly gash splitting his forehead and running all the way from his hairline down to the corner of his eye. It stung every time he blinked; a painful reminder of everything that had happened. His mind kept on drifting back to Enjolras and the revolution. He loved his little brother ... He could never blame his little brother. But there was one thing he could blame; the revolution. If Enjolras had never got involved with the older revolutionaries or created the Amis de l'ABC then he wouldn't be laid there. If they had remained innocent to the injustices of people then he wouldn't have been abused. They were fighting for the people who did not want their help. Then it hit him, they were fighting for people like this thug that tortured him. They were fighting for the trash that raped and cut people every day. He couldn't go back to them. Combeferre could no longer fight for those that would not hesitate to hurt him. It was all about survival now.

The thug rolled over and kissed Combeferre on the cheek. His heart rate quickened rapidly as he tried to move away. But the pain was too much. "Ten and a half hours left pretty boy," he chuckled and Combeferre shivered. There was silence for a few moments but suddenly a black leather strip was held firmly over his eyes. The room fell into darkness and Combeferre panicked. He thought that he couldn't felt any more exposed and worthless; this increased it tenfold. His mind grew frantic, not knowing where his abuser was lurking. A burning pain seared the back of his skull and Combeferre cried out through the gag in agony. He tried to get rid the pain from his mind but tears streamed down his face as it intensified. It was at least half an hour before the pain died down and Combeferre could finally breathe properly again. The bells chimed from the clock and Combeferre winced at the now deafening noise. "Eleven ... Time for another punishment," he hissed and Combeferre jumped at the sudden voice. He tried to anticipate the cut but he had no way of knowing where the thug was going to strike next. The knife dug into the back of his ankle tearing all the tendons down to his heel. The pain was unbearable to his already shattered mind. Combeferre drifted in and out of unconsciousness as his vital liquid poured out of his body. Eventually the blissful silence took him in its embrace.

Day 5: 12:30pm

Combeferre was abruptly woken by shouting and gun shots echoing through the hallways. He instantly tensed, looking around even though the world was shrouded in darkness. The door was thumped open and he could hear two people enter the room dramatically. The thug that was holding him jumped away from him presumably to attack the mysterious visitors that he prayed were here to rescue him. It had felt like a lifetime in this shadowy prison and he would take any opportunity to escape it's clutches. Another shot echoed off the stone walls and a thump soon followed. His dreams were coming real; Enjolras had not decided the revolution was worth more than one man as he feared he would; Enjolras had not decided it was a lost cause to find his imprisoned friend. One of the rescuers knelt down in front of him and softly took Combeferre's hand in his own. "Ferre, mon grande frère," he voice whispered and Combeferre's heart instantly lifted. It was Enjolras, it was his little brother; he had come to get him.

"Enj hurry up," the other voice exclaimed from the doorway; he instantly recognised it to be the cynical drunkard. If it was a better situation then of course he would be questioning those two on how they actually tolerated being with each other. But he had more important things to be worrying about.

"I'm here Ferre. We're going to get you out of here," Enjolras reassured him softly, as he gently untied the belt gag from round Combeferre's head. Blood seeped from deep cuts into his mouth as he retched violently onto the hard floor. Enjolras softly rubbed his back and pulled the blindfold off, trying not to hurt his best friend. He winced slightly and screwed his eyes shut as the light burned them due to no exposure to it's warming rays. "It'll all be fine now Lucien," Enjolras whispered, picking the slightly larger man up in his arms. "We're getting you out of here," he whispered again as Grantaire checked the corridors were empty. The world spun around him and his head pounded like a million thugs were kicking it in.

"Here," Grantaire called out throwing Enjolras a blanket. Enjolras caught it and softly wrapped Combeferre's naked form in it's scratchy protection. His eyes fluttered gently tp a close once he was back in the safe haven of his brother's touch.

**I know this is considerably shorter than I usually write … but that just seemed like the right place to leave this chapter!**


	5. Chapter 4

_**5/6/13**_

**Thanks for the support and I am glad people seem to like this**

EmmaLaird – Yeah … I wouldn't advise hugging him

TotaltotheMax – Thanks, I am feeling better and my exams are almost over … so soon you may get updates out of boredom!

Gavroche T – Thanks a lot and hope you like this one as much!

**Chapter 4**

The next time Combeferre weakly opened his battered eyes; he was back in his apartment. He let out a spluttering sigh of relief which woke up his protective bodyguard. "Luce, thank god you're awake," Enjolras exclaimed and Combeferre flinched slightly. Combeferre did know what had gotten into him; but everything reminded him of those days in the cell. Even the comforting voice of his best friend made him panic unnecessarily. In every shadow, their presence lingered; in every whisper of wind were their laughing taunts. "_Useless! Just a little crying child, how can this one fight in a revolution_,_he can't even defend himself against one man,"_ the wind insulted him and his mind frantically fought again the seeds of panic that were growing at an alarming rate.

Usually after occurrences such as this, the subject would be withdrawn and nervous. Well, that's at least what Joly had said when he had finally been able to tell the amis what had happened. Enjolras had hated lying to them all but thankfully they had forgiven him in an instant. Courfeyrac and Jehan were running the meetings in Enjolras and Combeferre's absence and for once the revolutionary wasn't concerned about the revolution at all. His only concern was the weak, slightly trembling boy in front of him. Anyway, Joly has said that Combeferre would not want any contact for weeks due to it bringing back memories. That was why Enjolras was shocked when Combeferre spontaneously threw his scarred arms round Enjolras' chest and pressed himself as close as he could. Enjolras froze; stiff and tense, unsure of what was right to do in this situation. Grantaire remained stood in the doorway almost as shocked as Enjolras was. Enjolras' mind was made up when Combeferre started shaking and sobbing into his chest. Despite what all the medical books said, Combeferre needed his brother's affection; so Enjolras softly hugged him and played with his blood stained hair.

Once Combeferre had finished with his outburst, Enjolras prised the trembling man off his chest. Combeferre had his eyes squeezed shut and tears were gathering underneath on his dark bags. Tears continued to fall silently and Enjolras just sat by his side giving him all the time he needed. Once the tears had stopped falling, Combeferre remained in a sort of weak daze. Enjolras tried to get him talking but a slow shake or nod of the head was all he could get from the stone figure. He helped Combeferre weakly to his feet, with a slight nod to Grantaire. The cynic had hired himself as Enjolras and Combeferre's bodyguard until all this was over. People said that he didn't care about anything but that was untrue; nothing mattered more to him than his friends, and he would gladly give his live for them. They had run a bath earlier and it had cooled down enough for Combeferre's sensitive skin to be comfortable. Combeferre dragged his weak feet, leaning on Enjolras to take the weight off his shattered ankle. Joly had promised him that everything would heal with rest and time, but the ankle still worried Enjolras greatly.

He sat Combeferre in the tin bathtub and felt bile rise in his throat at all the blood and grime that immediately rose to the surface. Combeferre seemed completely oblivious to the state of his bath water; he just sat hunched over and stared at the bare wall. He had not uttered a single word since they had found him in that cell. But Joly had also said this would happen; he would just have to wait. Gently, with the softest cloth he could find, Enjolras began to clear away the wounds caked in blood. Joly was coming back later to treat them; he said there was nothing he could do until Combeferre was awake. Every time he touched one of the plethora of cuts, Combeferre flinched away and Enjolras winced as the guilt hit him full on again. This was all his fault; it was all his fault his elder brother had been hurt like this. And he would never forgive himself.

It was a slow and tedious process but Enjolras went about it with patience that he hardly ever displayed. Soon all the dirt and blood was out window and Combeferre was wrapped in a fluffy towel, trembling as he sat on the bed. Enjolras had hold of Combeferre's hand after helping him from the bathroom and Combeferre was gripping it with all his strength. Combeferre needed clothes to replace the ones he had lost on the cell but as soon as Enjolras managed to prise his hand out of Combeferre's iron grip, Combeferre choked on a sob and frantically clutched at Enjolras' shirt. When Enjolras freed his shirt, Combeferre eyes frantically darted around and panic spread throughout his body. He wrapped his trembling arms around his knees and started rocking backwards and forwards on the bed with his eyes clenched shut. Enjolras dived back next to him and took hold of his shaking hand once more. Combeferre stopped rocking and curled up leaning on Enjolras; he was instantly soothed by the blonde's presence. Enjolras tenderly massaged his palm and Combeferre's tense expression softened.

A few moments later Grantaire returned with clothes for the naked man and Joly in tow. Enjolras had sent their faithful and surprisingly sober bodyguard to get the clothes and the doctor as every time he tried to leave Combeferre, the man broke down. Grantaire had explained all this to Joly on their way over so as he treated Combeferre's copious quantity of wounds, he made sure that Combeferre was always in contact with his younger brother. Combeferre drifted into an uneasy sleep leaning on Enjolras just after Joly had finished treating him. "His wounds will heal with time but his mental state is what I would be more concerned about," he sighed and Enjolras nodded solemnly.

"Do you know why he doesn't want me to let go of him?" Enjolras asked, gently stroking Combeferre's hair in a repetitive motion.

"I am not absolutely sure. But I believe it is that he was with you when he was kidnapped and you were the one to rescue him. When you last left, all this happened; so he doesn't want you to leave in fear that this will happen again," Joly explained as tears gathered in Enjolras' usually cold eyes.

Joly had left hours ago and Combeferre was curled up, still latched onto Enjolras' hand. But the revolutionary could not sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, images of Combeferre in pain assaulted his senses until his eyes snapped open again with tears gathering. Enjolras had always been marble; whenever people would usually cry Enjolras was stoic. He had seen death and experienced pain but a tear had never fallen. Some people would say he was subtly optimistic; it was true to did enjoy seeing the best in people and always seeing the best in a situation. This was too much; there was no good side and that was why the tears poured freely down his porcelain cheeks. Grantaire sat in a chair by the door staring into the distance, but his new revolver remained loaded and ready in his hand. He was taking no chances.

Grantaire watched the pair with an eagle eyed awareness. He was nowhere near his usual drunken stupor but what Enjolras didn't know was that he was not sober either. It was a common misconception that if Grantaire was sober then his mind would be clear. Actually when he was sober he was actually more delirious than drunk. The time you needed to talk to Grantaire or the coherency you needed him to be at was after one or two glasses of wine; as soon as a normal person would be turning tipsy was when he was at his best. And he needed to be at his best. He knew that neither of those thugs will be returning, he had made sure of that, but the Surete had infinite resources. This time they would not be caught unaware. Enjolras didn't know what had happened once he had carried Combeferre's limp body out of the cell. Enjolras wouldn't want to know what happened as soon as that door had swung shut. Grantaire sat there thinking to himself until Enjolras broke the awkward silence that had fallen upon them. "Taire, what did you do to the two guards?" Enjolras asked and Grantaire froze. The drunkard was suddenly fixated with a certain patch on the floor as Enjolras asked the one question he didn't want to answer. "And the Surete…" he began before Grantaire's voice echoed over his.

"No! ... Just..don't ask 'Pollo, I can't. I'm sorry," he mumbled with his head hanging limply in his slightly trembling hands. "Actually to hell am I sorry!" he shouted, jumping to his feet. However suddenly the moment was lost and he soothed his voice for fear of waking the pained man. Grantaire sunk back into the chair as his resolve faltered. "Just don't ask Enjolras, I don't want to talk about it," he mumbled, staring at the same plain patch of floor. He couldn't look into Enjolras' eyes after what he did; he was sorry for it, but they had it coming.

_Grantaire distracted the thugs and their leader while Enjolras made a run for it carrying Combeferre. Rage burned through his veins and his mind was clouded with a blood red haze. Enjolras was always against killing; of course when the barricades arrived he would kill but before then he did not want people to die. And apart from Bahorel, the rest of the amis could not kill in cold blood. Grantaire had killed for lesser crimes than this; these villains would not be shown any mercy. Grantaire stopped running abruptly and spun on his heels. He darted into another room like the one Combeferre had been held in, leading the thugs and their leader after him. He kicked the door shut, effectively locking all four in a room together. He drew his double revolvers that he had got from suspicious sources. They were a new invention and he found them so useful as you didn't need to reload after a shot. "Put down your weapons or I shoot!" he threatened with his trigger finger twitching. He wanted to kill them so badly._

_Neither thug made a move to lower their own pistols and they looked on the verge of shooting. "One more chance," he growled but the captain just laughed almost manically._

"_Kill him," he snarled but was instantly silenced by a bullet to the throat and another one to the heart. Blood spurted from his neck and seeped through this shirt as he crumpled onto the floor, his eyes still wide open in shock. Both men stood gawping at their fallen leader before both weapons clattered on the rough stone floor. Grantaire smirked and kicked the weapons away from them with his two still leveled at their heads. _

_"Now on your knees," he ordered, cocking the guns with a skilled ease._

_"No way! You won't shoot," one of them taunted. "You would have killed us by now if you were gonna," he laughed and the other one nodded. Without a second thought, a bullet ripped through the air and tore through the cocky one's kneecap. He fell to the floor onto his knees screaming in pain. The second one instantly sunk to his knees, fearing the same treatment.__  
__"Good boys," Grantaire teased with a sadistic smile, circling around them both. "Now," he began while pulling out his pocket watch. "You have thirty seconds to make peace with the gods and beg for my forgiveness and your lives," he stated and both men began to panic. They never imagined this little job would end in merciless bloodshed.__  
__"Why are you doing this?" The uninjured one, who Grantaire had nicknamed Dum, cried out at him.__  
__"Because you hurt my friend, and while I would love to do to you what you did to him, I really don't have the time," he sighed. "And it would be irresponsible, of me to leave you alive to do that to other people," he added as an afterthought.__  
__"Please have mercy," the other one, Dummer, called out but Grantaire just laughed.__  
__"If you knew me, then you would know that hurting my friends is a very bad idea, unfortunately you will not live to learn from the mistake," he smirked and after a slight pause, he shot both men in the centre of the forehead. Their limp bodies collapsed forwards onto the floor and blood seeped into a pool around their bodies. "Lesson learned," he murmured as he left the room in his wake._

Every shadow was a body, every noise meant they were coming to get him; every movement was them preparing to hurt him. This was paranoia to the extreme. He had never been the worried type. Combeferre, the doctor and philosopher, was the type to take whatever the world threw at him and not worry of what was going to come. But now everything reminded him of those scarring five days that would be forever ingrained on his mind. He needed Enjolras; his fractured mind seemed to believe that if Enjolras was there everything was fine, if Enjolras left him then bad things would happen. That was all his mind could rationalise so when Enjolras tried to leave panic overcame everything as he desperately fought to make his anchor stay. Thankfully Enjolras did not leave his side all the way through the night and he was a soothing presence as the night terrors tore what remained of his sanity to shreds.


	6. Chapter 5

_**12/6/13**_

**Thanks again for the support I have received. I really do appreciate this!**

EmmaLaird – Thanks, that bit is where I got my inspiration!

TotaltotheMax – Happy Barricade Day … slightly late. Thanks and I hope you like this chapter!

**Chapter 5**

It had been a week and everything seemed to be progressing nicely. Combeferre's wounds were sealing and Enjolras had finally managed to reassure Combeferre that if he left then Combeferre would still be safe. It was a major breakthrough in returning his past mental state. But not everything was well. He still refused to be left alone in a room and only Enjolras and Grantaire were allowed to touch him. Joly was an exception, he was allowed to treat Combeferre but only if one of the other two were in contact. It was all much better than expected despite all the problems. Until Enjolras woke up one morning to find Combeferre had disappeared. He was swept up in an instant frenzy. Panic flooded his mind and coursed through his veins in a tsunami of emotions. Grantaire was asleep by the door with his fingers twitching restlessly. "Ferre? Lucien?" Enjolras shouted, jumping up; also waking Grantaire, who proceeded to fall off his chair with an almighty crash.

"Where is he?" Grantaire asked in a slightly drunken haze.

"How am I supposed to know winecask!" Enjolras shouted in anger; not at Grantaire, at himself. It just came out at the drunkard. Grantire fell silent and Enjolras instantly regretted his words.

Enjolras opened his mouth to apologise but Grantaire shook his head. "Let's just find him," Grantaire replied with a glare at Enjolras. Enjolras nodded with a sigh and checked all the small rooms and alcoves off his apartment. Grantaire opened the door and darted to see if Combeferre had gone that way. Enjolras pushed open the door into the washroom and let out a deep sigh of relief when he saw Combeferre stood there. He was stood still as a stone statue; he was hardly blinking. The only movement was the slow rise and fall of his chest. Enjolras stepped in slowly as Combeferre slowly lifted his hand. His trembling finger ran slowly up and down his healing scars that would forever mar his body. Enjolras felt tears gather in his eyes as he saw his brother so broken. But yet even scarred and mentally fractured, Combeferre looked so strong. He was stood perfectly straight and his face was emotionless as if he was in indifference.

Enjolras stepped closer as a tear ran slowly down his cheek. He hated to see Combeferre this way. He just hated it. Combeferre had always been the strong one; he was the one who, no matter what, would be there with words of advice and a strong shoulder for you to lean on. Enjolras needed his guide, his right hand man, his older brother. He was shocked into silence when a shaking thumb brushed the tear off his cheek. Enjolras stood there gawping as Combeferre ran his finger down the track that the solitary tear left. Combeferre just stood with his thumb resting on Enjolras' cheek. Enjolras didn't want to move for fear if ruining this progress with the older man. However he began to smile slightly at the long desired understanding since this all happened. "I won't cry Ferre," he reassured the other man and pressed Combeferre's hand to his cheek. Enjolras took a deep breath as he removed his hand from on top of Ferre's. "And Ferre shouldn't cry either," he added softly and brushed the tear, that was lingering on Combeferre's cheek, away with a smooth motion.

Combeferre leant on Enjolras' shoulder and Enjolras slowly entwined his fingers with Combeferre's.

They stood there, perfectly still; relishing in the moment before Grantaire pushed the front door open. Combeferre jumped away from Enjolras at the noise with fear spreading across his features. His glasses slid down his nose but his hand still clutched onto Enjolras'. "Pollo, I can't find him!" Grantaire shouted as he walked into the flat. The bathroom door swung open and Grantaire spotted them in their moment together. He nodded to Enjolras before returning to his sentry position. Enjolras tenderly pushed Combeferre's glasses back up his nose and nodded towards the bed. Combeferre nodded almost unnoticeably and Enjolras took all of Combeferre's weight as they walked.

Once Combeferre was laid back under his blankets and his glasses were safely off his nose, Enjolras sat next to Grantaire. He waked as Combeferre drifted back to sleep before speaking. "I'm grateful Taire," he mumbled. Enjolras hated to admit it; but the cynical drunkard, who he had always despaired with, had been his rock during these troubled times. He had always thought Grantaore unable to do anything if worth; but here he was. The man who claimed to hate the world had saved the revolution, saved Combeferre, and in itself he had saved Enjolras in the process. And that he would never forget. Enjolras never forgot things like this; Grantaire had earns respect in the blonde haired revolutionary's eyes. Enjolras turned to face him as Grantaire continued to watch his self-appointed charge.

Contrary to what Enjolras had thought, Grantaire looked worse than Combeferre did at that time. And it was worrying that the strong one looked like he could keel over at any moment. His stubble had grown unruly and looked unkempt compared to the shortness he permanently kept it at. His face was hollowed out and his pupils grew. Light shimmered from the faint sheen of sweat that coated his porcelain features. If Enjolras hadn't been looking so closely he would have missed the slight shivering and twitching of Grantaire's muscles and the difficultly he had swallowing. "Grantaire? What's wrong?" Enjolras asked cautiously.  
"I'm fine!" Grantaire snapped, completely out of character; this just made Enjolras more concerned.

"No you are not! Tell me," he demanded as Grantaire looked weak and began to struggle breathing. He lifted up his shirt to show Enjolras his chest.

A raging gasp tore open his stomach about ten centimetres long but the red inflamed skin spread across his waist. "Poisoned blade," Grantaire mumbled as his strength began to falter. Grantaire only found out that he had been stabbed when the adrenaline had worn off. Adrenaline covered any pain; but when you hit the low, the pain bit back. But Combeferre was more important right now; he would live. "I'm going to get Joly!" Enjolras stated as he stood up, ignoring Grantaire's protests. "You need medical help!" he shouted when Grantaire grabbed his arm. Enjolras darted out the door and as soon as it shut, Grantaire let the façade fall and collapsed onto the floor.

XXX

Enjolras returned with Joly in tow about ten minutes later, fearful that something would have happened while he was gone. Something had happened while he was gone, but he never would have guessed. Enjolras thumped the door open and looked around the room. Grantaire was laid, almost unconscious and very delirious, in the bed that Combeferre previously occupied. What was more shocking was that Combeferre sat at his bedside coaxing the man into drinking from a cup. It looked as if nothing had ever happened and Combeferre was just asking as their group doctor again. He didn't look up as the two men walked in. "I need some more dandelions," he commented and Enjolras' jaw nearly hit the floor. Joly was in equal shock but snapped out of it quicker than the younger man was able to. "Vitamin K deficiency?" Joly asked setting his medical bag down. Combeferre nodded as he coaxed more of the liquid down Grantaire's throat with a little protest from the incapacitated drunkard.

"They stabbed him with a blood thinner, and Grantaire already had thin blood and his drinking doesn't help. Therefore it acted as an overdose, that mixed with the blood loss has hit him hard," Combeferre explained while Enjolras was still gawping. He would have stabbed Grantaire himself if he had known this would happen. It was a breakthrough.

"So what are you giving him?" Joly asked, seemly unfazed by this remarkable change in Combeferre's new demeanour. The man was still hunched over and unsure of himself but he had returned to his usual mother hen attitude when faced with a problem. Who thought it could be that simple.

"Dandelion tea with heaps of milk," Combeferre stated as he patiently pushed more down Grantaire's reluctant throat.

"I down't wike it," Grantaire slurred as his turned his head away from Combeferre. Combeferre sighed like he always used to.

"Would you like some cheese instead?" Combeferre asked tenderly as Grantaire pouted like a child amount to throw a tantrum. Blood loss and drugs always did this to him; it was just how anything like this made him react. Plus he always sulked when he was ill. Grantaire slowly nodded and Joly darted out of the door on a mission to find Brie and Parsley. "Can you drink a little more for me?" Combeferre encouraged. Enjolras was still stood as still as a marble statue; he just didn't know what to do or what had happened.

"No," Grantaire sulked wincing as he rolled away from the blasphemous liquid.

"Nicolas," Combeferre stated sternly moving the cup back to his mouth.

"No, I wefuse. It tastes icky!" he exclaimed but his resolve was clearly faltering as he became drowsy. Enjolras couldn't help a small smile sneaking onto his face.

Now, this did not mean Combeferre was back to normal. He was still trembling slightly and his eyes darted everywhere around him with a frenzied panic. There was still a long way to go but Grantaire throwing a tantrum certainly drew more of the real Combeferre out. Joly had returned with the cheese and parsley and Grantaire had wolfed that down with a tiny bit of the dandelion tea, much to his disgust. Soon after, the younger doctor went home, he wasn't needed there anyway and Enjolras went to clean up all the mess they had made in this frenzy. It didn't take long and he expected Combeferre to still be sat in the old wooden chair by the bed side. He really should learn not to expect things when those two were involved. He returned to find Grantaire curled up gripping onto Combeferre's arm. Combeferre lay snuggled up in the blankets next to the sleeping drunkard. He had a light sheen of sweat coating his face and neck; but it seemed Grantaire's lingering touch soothed his troubled mind and protected it from the night terrors.

Enjolras settled on the chair with his spare blanket and watched the duo. His two closest friends laying in each other's arms. In any other situation that would be highly amusing. But in this situation, it was progress.


	7. Chapter 6

_**5/7/13**_

**Thanks for the support and I am sorry for the long wait guys! I now do review responses by PM so … yeah let's begin!**

**This chapter would have been finished quicker … it's all Andy Murray's fault! Blame the tennis! And I cannot write if I am too hot … damn you British summertime!**

**Chapter 6**

Enjolras was getting restless. He was never good at domestic things; that was always Combeferre. But he had two grown men to care for. Combeferre had suffered a bad relapse and was now refusing to talk and wouldn't let anyone in his room. Enjolras had hoped that after Grantaire's accident, Combeferre would come out of his shell but that momentary adventure into the big world had scared his splintered mind even further away again. Enjolras let out a deep sigh and massaged his temples. Combeferre wasn't his only problem. Grantaire was so demanding and whingey when seriously ill. Joly said that now he needed to rest to heal but he was so sulky and stubborn; and Enjolras couldn't cope anymore. He was trying to do it alone. He kept on telling himself that it was for Combeferre's benefit that he never called anyone else in but he knew it was otherwise; he didn't want admit he couldn't deal with it like Combeferre had always managed to. Enjolras knew it was so vain and finally he called upon Gavroche. "Gav … go find Jehan," he stated urgently pressing some coins into the boy's palm and let out a sigh, "Tell him I need him."

Jehan was at Enjolras' apartment within minutes of the panicked conversation with Gavroche. The amis all knew what had happened to Combeferre and that Enjolras and Grantaire were looking after him but they had not seen the three men through all the chaos. No one apart from knew how bad Combeferre was, how Enjolras was dealing with it. And Joly was refusing to say anything to them, something about patient confidentiality. Jehan was delighted that Enjolras had finally decided to confide in him and ran to the apartment. He knocked on the door and was met with a worse for wear Enjolras. His blonde hair was coated in grease and hung limply in curls round his icy face. Deep bags hung under his worried eyes; Jehan sighed and enveloped him in a tight hug. Usually Enjolras instantly scorned physical contact but he needed this. He needed the support as his world crumbled around him; and the little poet was the best to give it. Tears streamed down his cheeks, something which if he was in his right mind would never happen, as he clung to Jehan. The youngest member of their group kicked the door shut, not letting go of their breaking leader. "It'll be alright Enjy," Jehan whispered into the blonde's curls.

"I can't do this anymore Jean," he sobbed, unable to keep up the marble façade anymore. It had drained him of everything and left his soul exposed to the cruel world.

"You don't have to do this alone Enjolras. We are all here for you, just ask," Jehan whispered as they stood wrapped together. Jehan was perfectly happy to stand there for as long as Enjolras needed but the highly unpleasant sound of Grantaire's body trying to purge itself of the poison. Enjolras broke away and was about to dart into his bedroom, which currently housed Grantaire; when Jehan stopped him. "Enjolras, rest and take some time out. I'll go sort him," Jehan ordered with the soft eloquence that you could not say no to. Enjolras nodded in thanks on sunk onto his divan. He head was pounding and bile rose in his throat; he hadn't slept in the past week and it was finally taking its toll on his body and mind. Enjolras sat with his head in his hands trying to dull the thumping and the stabbing pain just behind his eyelids. He heard a door creak and, assuming it was Jehan, just stayed sat exactly where he was with a little moan. Soft but strong hands slowly rubbed circles around his temples to the bridge of his nose. Enjolras moaned slightly as the hands warned off the impending migraine that plagued him. Once the pain was all gone and the rubbing lessened in intensity, Enjolras finally opened his eyes and smiled slightly. Combeferre was sat with his forehead leaning on Enjolras'. His brother looked nothing like he used to but it still soothed Enjolras to see him once again. He had missed Combeferre's magic touch and he desperately wanted his guide back. They were making slow progress with him but it was excruciatingly slow.

"How are you doing Ferre?" Enjolras whispered as if he was coaxing a frightened animal out of its burrow.

"My head hurts," he admitted, raising Enjolras' spirits a few octaves. This was the first time Combeferre had actually admitted he wasn't ok; another step forwards. Hesitantly and with shaking hands, Enjolras rubbed little circles around Combeferre's temples just like the other man had done for him a few minutes previous. Slowly Combeferre leant into his brother's touch and his eyes flickered shut in relaxation. "I-I can't … I can't do it Enjy," Combeferre whispered with his voice cracking in despair. Enjolras continued to massage gently and soothingly.

"You don't have to do it alone," Enjolras whispered, moving up with the circles to Combeferre's hair line.

"The-The pictures. The images. They w-won't go away Julien," he whimpered moving in closer to his brother's comforting touch. Enjolras carefully wrapped his arms around Combeferre's neck so their foreheads were still touching. Combeferre inched open his eyes and stared into Enjolras' deep blue pools.

"I will always be here for you Ferre. No matter what happens we will fight through it together, like brothers," Enjolras reassured him and Combeferre slowly nodded.

"I-I ththought you would 'ate me," he mumbled and Enjolras' eyes widened in shock. Combeferre's eyes dropped to the floor in what had to be shame.

"Lucien! Why on earth would I hate you?" Enjolras exclaimed, trying to keep his anger in check.

"I got captured .. and 'm so weak now," he confessed full of self-loathing and Enjolras sighed.

"None of this was your fault," he stated but Combeferre continued to look away. "Lucien look at me," he ordered but with a friendly tone. Combeferre reluctantly looked up into Enjolras eyes and relaxed when he saw there was nothing but care lingering behind those blue irises. Combeferre's head fell against Enjolras' shoulder with a pained sigh. Enjolras hated to see his brother like this but he couldn't help but smile at the progress the duo had made. They both sunk down onto the bed and Enjolras planted a soft kiss on Combeferre's head.

XXX

Jehan slunk into Enjolras' room and saw Grantaire curled on the floor next to the bucket. The room stunk and Grantaire looked foul. The borrowed nightclothes stuck to his fevered skin and his curled form trembled in the moonlight. "Oh Taire," Jehan sighed as the drunkard whimpered in pain. Jehan replaced the stinking bucket with a clean one and tipped the probably toxic waste out of the window; making sure not to hit anyone. Grantaire this time started to dry wretch into the bucket; his stomach empty but the blasphemous liquid not purged from his body. The poet settled next to Grantaire's shaking form and rubbed his back with soothing words. Jehan was not a doctor; but if there was one thing Jehan knew it was how to sooth people with a subtle touch and a few well-crafted words. And according to Enjolras, that was all Grantaire needed. He just needed someone to sooth him through his pain and force feed him cheese. Jehan was willing to do that for the health of one of his friends and the sanity of another.

**Sorry for the short chapter guys!**


	8. Chapter 7

_**4/8/13**_

**Again sorry for the long wait but it is finally here! Just for later on in this chapter, I go on a little about Enjolras in glasses … just find a picture of Aaron Tveit in glasses … I have no words.**

**Also I am writing a novel! I am currently doing the first draft so it will take a while to do but if any of you wanna help me out and read over things, give me advice, e.t.c then PM me or put it in your review on here!**

**Chapter 7**  
Enjolras woke in the morning to sunlight streaming through the curtains and hitting his face. Combeferre was sleeping peacefully with his body curled round the smaller man's chest. Enjolras smiled, affectionately kissing his big brother's tussled brown hair. He could see the cuts shining against Combeferre's unnaturally pale skin and desperately wished that with love they would fade. But both of them knew that they wouldn't fade; the scars would always be there as a reminder of what he went through in the name of the revolution. At the kiss, Combeferre sniffled and buried closer to Enjolras' comforting presence. Enjolras let a smile spread across his face and settled against the pillows. If Combeferre wanted to be there then Enjolras wasn't moving. Jehan tiptoed into the room with some tea and breakfast for them both but Enjolras silently begged him not to wake Combeferre. The group's guide had not got a good night's sleep since the incident and Enjolras didn't want him to wake until his body wished him to. So Jehan left the tea silently on the bedside table and gestured that he would be looking after Grantaire. Enjolras smile gratefully as the poet left the room, gently closing the door behind him. Enjolras picked up the nearest book to the bed and started reading.

Jehan left the tea for the other two men and set to making Grantaire's special tea. Granaire was up on his feet more now but the poison's effects were still clearly present. Jehan had only left the apartment for shopping since he was called in but he enjoyed it. He enjoyed being of help, caring for his friends and being trusted enough to be around at this very sensitive time. One little thing could send Combeferre spiralling back into the void and Jehan was so proud Enjolras trusted him enough to be here, even if it was only to look after Grantaire. The other man had slept peacefully all last night and for once Jehan felt comfortable leaving him alone. He took his time making the tea and made Grantaire Brie sandwiches for breakfast. Unlike Enjolras, Jehan loved to nursemaid people and was great at it. He slowly opened Enjolras' bedroom door and stepped in with the tray when he was sure the light wouldn't hurt Grantaire. He was doing a lot better but he was still incredibly weak. Combeferre and Joly both said that the poison had wreaked havoc on his organs and everything was still fixing itself. "Jeeeeehaaan!" Grantaire whined from where he was curled up in the centre of Enjolras' massive bed. Jehan sighed and rolled his eyes with a little giggle. "The sun hurts," he whined, including an over exaggerated pout at the thin silver of light that was peeking through the curtains. Even Enjolras was easier to deal with ill than Grantaire. Whereas Enjolras was refusing all the care you tried to give him; Grantaire was winey, demanding and incredibly cuddly. Jehan pulled the curtains fully shut as soon as he had put the tray down. "Thank you Jeeehan!" He called out in a sing-song voice.

Combeferre slowly woke up after the best night of sleep he had felt since the incident. The sun was streaming through the window, showing him that it was about four in the afternoon; he had slept through the whole day. He felt warm and safe; maybe things were going to get better. He hoped so with all his heart. He blinked open and smiled when he saw his head was resting on Enjolras' warm chest. That was where the safe feeling came from then, the rhythmic beat of his brother's heart that soothed his own racing pulse. Enjolras would keep him safe, he trusted Enjolras. What sort of world would it be if you couldn't trust your own brother? Once his annoyingly fragile eyes were adjusted to the light once more, Combeferre looked up at Enjolras. He supressed a little chuckle at Enjolras laid on the bed with his reading glasses set on his nose, a copy of The Social Contract resting softly in his spindly fingers. Combeferre just watched silently as he skilfully picked up what had to be his third cup of tea, judging by the quantity of cups on the tray next to him, without looking away from the book. Enjolras hardly ever wore his glasses, he always said it was an inconvenience and he could read without them; but he would never admit that after a while it started to hurt his head so whenever he was at home or with just Combeferre he wore the proclaimed blasphemous objects. The normality was good, Enjolras was just doing what he would normally be doing; it kept the guilt away.

Enjolras noticed Combeferre was awake and softly rested his book on the mattress next to the two entangled bodies. "How are you feeling?" Enjolras asked with a smile, slowly running those fingers, that were previously cradling the book, through his hair. Combeferre softly leant into the comforting touch and tested his strained vocal chords. They seemed to have taken a beating from his confession the night before but were thankfully still functional.

"Much better," he croaked out and found a smile forming on his cracked lips as Enjolras' grew. "Julien?" Combeferre asked quietly, he stared at the bed. Enjolras withdrew his fingers from where they were twisted in Combeferre's hair and rested his hand gently on Combeferre's bandaged shoulder.

"Yes Lucien?" he said supportively and Combeferre's courage mounted slightly.

"Would I be able to go to the Musain tomorrow?" Combeferre asked timidly, he wanted things to go back to normal. And normal would involve going to the meetings and meeting his friends again; no matter what it takes he would get his life back.

"Of course Ferre," Enjolras grinned. "The amis can't wait to see you again," he comforted but Combeferre still wasn't sure.

"I-I just don't feel it as I did before. The passion, the desire to help people," he murmured with tears welling up in his eyes once more. Enjolras faltered slightly but he couldn't let Combeferre see the flickers of doubt appearing in the dark recesses in his mind.

"It'll be fine Ferre. You will always be our friend and once your life returns to some semblance of normality, you will return to be our guide. If that doesn't happen then you will still be our mother hen," he comforted and his spirits lifted with Combeferre smiled slightly.

"Thank you Jolras," he whispered and curled up with his head on Enjolras' chest once more.

**Sorry for the short chapter but it came to a natural conclusion here. Plus there will only be one more chapter in this fanfiction. Thanks for sticking with me through the highs and lows and I hope you will enjoy the natural conclusion of this story**


	9. Chapter 8

_**20/8/13**_

**And here it is … the end of the road. The final chapter to Lost Without His Guide. There have been highs and there have been lows but I sincerely thank all of you that have been reading this from the beginning and have had the patience to stick with me. **

**Epilogue**

Combeferre stood in front of his mirror shaking. He hadn't looked at the scars at all. Enjolras had made sure to cover them up at all times and all mirrors had been removed or covered up. But as he was getting dressed for the first time since the incident, it seemed the right thing to do. How could he move on past this if he was still too scared to see the impact? Combeferre pulled the filthy shirt, Enjolras had dressed him in when he was first rescued, over his head with trembling arms and threw it across the room. The cuts were now all pink lines littering the entirety of his torso but they weren't scary. Combeferre lightly trailed his finger over each one individually and nothing happened. There were no flashbacks to the incident, no stabbing pain; nothing, just the light sensation of the fingers travelling over raw skin. Combeferre smiled slightly; there was nothing to worry about, he was still the same. The mental wounds would heal like the physical ones were. He was still Lucien Etienne Combeferre, brother to Julien Enjolras, guide to La Amis de l'ABC. Combeferre gently buttoned the new shirt over the scars; the trembling had disappeared and finally he had his confidence back. He would go to the Café Musain with Enjolras and they would welcome him like before. Nothing will have changed.

By the time Enjolras finished getting ready and made them both breakfasts, Combeferre was ready and completely calm. Grantaire was still ill but he was massively better and would be back on his feet soon. Jehan was still babysitting him and they were playing dominoes on the bed sheets, while the other two occupants were out. Enjolras tentatively smiled at Combeferre over breakfast but Combeferre was too confident and prepared to let his best friend's concern worry him. He knew everything would be alright and that was all that mattered. "You sure about this Ferre?" Enjolras asked as he passed his older brother a jacket.

"I'm sure Jolras. I need to do this," Combeferre smiled softly. "Then everything will be well again," he nodded, more to convince himself than his fellow revolutionary. Enjolras linked his arm with Combeferre's supportively and smiled a real smile this time. Combeferre nodded and they strode out the door, leaving the past behind them.

The End

**Please leave one final review for me. Say what you liked, what you didn't like and what I could have worked on! It means a lot to hear feedback for my other fanfics and later works.**

**Guineamania signing out!**


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